


you're dear to me, but stop

by ellipsesificate



Category: Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Other, humanization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 16:52:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4713356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellipsesificate/pseuds/ellipsesificate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trials of nobly loving two ex-ish criminals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're dear to me, but stop

**Author's Note:**

> written for polyshipping day on tumblr back innnnn july? anyways this is my ship it's p great

“You know I love you both, more than my own life,” Silverbolt said, the deep despair etching the lines of his face undercut by the dollop of icecream slowly dripping from the corner of his mouth, “but I cannot understand why you find this so hard.”

Quickstrike jabbed his cone towards Silverbolt, who quickly reached out to prop the scoops up with a grimace. “Look, this old coot has been crossing roads just fine herself for how many years, I ain’t gonna insult her by treatin’ the lady all delicate.”

“And she doesn’t look like she has any valuables.” With another lick off the even curve of her icecream, Blackarachnia gave the old woman another analytical look from their table outside the icecream parlour. “What’s the point if she has no valuables on her? To repay us with?”

“Or steal off her!”

“I mean, I could always just tell Quickstrike to beat the hag up, put her out of her misery…”

A hand clamped over Quickstrike’s mouth before he could express his enthusiasm. “That goes against everything I’ve been trying to teach you two,” Silverbolt said, barely holding back a snap. “You are reforming! Feeling that pure pull of altruism, and abandoning your lives of crime to act on a higher calling, and please stop biting my palm that isn’t heroic, at all.”

“Keep chewing.” Methodically crunching through her cone as Quickstrike obeyed the order with gusto, Blackarachnia leaned back in her seat with a bored sneer. “Look, Quickstrike’s already lost his prosthetic getting that cat out of a tree, is he supposed to get all feel-good over that?”

“That was very unfortunate,” Silverbolt agreed, Quickstrike’s grumpy assent muffled, “but, sometimes, sacrifices are necessary when you’re helping others-”

Blackarachnia grimly shook her head. “His whole arm, Rover. He needs that for punching people.”

A sudden shock of wet cold against his forearm forced Silverbolt to jerk back. Victorious, Quickstrike wagged his smooshed cone accusingly. “For punchin’ people, Bolty!”

“Unless it’s in defense of the helpless, I don’t see how your brand of violence is particularly heroic!”

“What, me rescuin’ that poor puss ain’t good enough for you?”

“Well, it was unorthodox…”

“Okay!” Blackarachnia interrupted before the two could get any further. “Look - it’s been ten minutes, and that lady is still dawdling in the middle of the damned crosswalk. I’m going to go help her, because it’s getting annoying, so don’t get any funny ideas about this being out of the goodness of my heart, okay?”

She stood up and swiftly kissed them each on the cheek, stomping towards the subject of discussion and the surrounding growing traffic jam before either knew how to respond.

Finally, Quickstrike let out an appreciative sigh. “Now there’s a lady who knows how to take initiative - uh, Bolt, you still got a bit'a - here…”

Dropping the remains of his cone on the tabletop without a care, Quickstrike reached over to swipe the icecream of his cheek. Silverbolt leaned into the touch, eyes flicking between Quickstrike and the scene at the crosswalk. “Thank you - no, no Blackarachnia, we do not drag our elders by their feet…!”


End file.
